


Summer awakenings

by Eldritch_Screech



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, NSFW, Possession, Secret Relationships, Some angst, adult au, black magic & holiness, chapter 2 is hurt/comfort, demiromantic relationships, slavic mythology if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Screech/pseuds/Eldritch_Screech
Summary: Amid a stressful time for the family, a flailing attempt at lovemaking leaves Charlie's room at the Burrow in glittering shards in July 1993





	Summer awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> This belongs to my adult AU - it's fluff and then hurt/comfort. There's smut but it's pretty tame??  
> Set before Weasleys leave for Egypt in July 1993. 6th of July is Kupala Night in Slavic paganism.

_sacred passion_

_overflow this being_

_living water streaming_

\- by gno5i5 (on tumblr)

 

1.

It's nearing 1 a.m when Charlie finally lifts his head from the journal he's writing in. He flicks his quill onto the floor and gives his stiff neck a much needed massage - he's been studying for several hours non-stop this evening. Yellowed pages and torn envelopes stick out from a paperback the redhead has on his lap for reference; his supervisor would have a fit if they saw him reading it inbetween eating cream tea ( _CLOTTED cream on a plain scone first, THEN rhubarb jam_ ) and drinking beer from a can, like a barbarian.

But they were in Romania – and he snagged himself a sweet overtime vacation, thanks to slaving away in dragonlet pens last year. So worth it – for the baby dragons, in the first place; Charlie _loves_  his baby dragons.

Simple pleasures are to be treasured – he has his and Bill's room to himself for now and nights are so far for catching up with the literature in his field. The man has been spending all his days with Ginny this break, and intends to stay longer this year for that reason. The details of what exactly had happened that Dumbledore gave them are murky at best – but possession of this caliber could leave a mature wizard's mind shattered; his parents still take Ginny to London to see a mediwizard, once a week--

He refuses to dwell on the pain though, and especially the fear, lest it consume him fully – Ginny needs him present, not panicked. Between twins trying to lessen the fear by making punny jokes about Voldemort and their parents outright banning the very name to be spoken out loud, Charlie finds his diplomatic talents stretching. He still insists to speak with his sister openly – honesty and acceptance is the best he can give. This and back scratches – Charlie perfected them on the dragonlets and his little sister loves them just as well.

The twins are  _out_ tonight, for once – they're bent on exploring possible muggle friendships, but it's been a mixed bag so far. They do have a bit of a reputation in the village, their family's low profile taken for being good for nothing, really. Charlie fails to feel surprised at that – it isn't like they necessarily  _fit_  there, or socialize, at all. He made peace with it even before realizing how low their social standing would be, according to muggle standards. The twins still need to, though.

He yawns and stretches on the bed fully now, the books and journals dumped onto the floor unceremoniously.  _Go into research, they said_ , Charlie thinks with exasperation – and truly, he's happy he added a scientific route, alongside the more practical handling expertise he already has in spades. But wading through obscure treatises on possible undiscovered properties of dragon's blood--

The man closes his eyes briefly, feeling the tiredness seep in – and promptly decides to chase it away with a quick shower, on account of having the whole deck for himself. Mom and dad should sleep like logs by now, and Ginny wouldn't leave their sides recently anyway. Somehow, Charlie himself doesn't want to sleep just yet.  _It's midsummer_ , he remembers. That explains the electric tickling under his skin – water should help wash the restlessness away.

He'd be lying if he also didn't hope for some kind of message from Hum – the alchemist should've apparated home hours ago. Probably negotiating through some kind of an ungodly curse - those have kept leaking through aunt Asteria's safety net to this day. Charlie has no desire of revisiting the fun they had back in the day, no thank you. But the older witch adores Ginny and perhaps could help her chase some of the shadows away – he'd bet his sister would  _lose_  it over the tiny hipogriff golems...

 As for Hum herself, he misses her painfully, all the more when they've seen each other so recently--

 The glass cracks in front of his face when Charlie looks at himself in the foggy mirror, the stress and longing always compounded when they were in the same country – and not in the same room. He allows himself to breathe deeply, thinking about all the good things this summer had in store – the time he'd spend with the family, out exploring with Ginny and Hum, Bill's visiting.. They could play quidditch, tamer version with his sister so young – but still mad vicious on a broom, so they'd see about that; he hopes being with them could help bring Ginny back from her shell. And Ron wanted to play as well...

 Charlie is toweling himself dry when he hears a delicate pattering against the window – nine knocks, in three series. Sure, it takes some straining his hearing to discern the sounds – but the redhead almost drops the towel in a rush; his hands are shaking the tiniest bit.

 Sure enough, it's Hestia – in her claws she holds a piece of paper, not even cursorily tied up. It smells artificially, like muggle sharpies Tonks would use to draw mustaches on their faces, during sleepovers in the past. The memory makes Charlie chuckle as he exchanges the note for a treat. He leans against the window frame and takes a closer look. Hestia gives his wet hair a friendly ruffle and sits on the desk – there's a skull phone Bill had gifted him recently, and the bird settles itself on it.

 Hum writes her first love letter to him in weeks on a post-it note, the colour of garish yellow. Ends it with a doodle of a cockroach – he looks at it with no words in his head for once.  _They're useful_ , she said once.  _Nobody suspects a cockroach familiar._  Why would you need a cockroach familiar in the first place--

 

_Mon chou,_

_there's full moon tonight so I'm a little late – forgive me._

 

And that cockroach.

Still, Charlie leaves the window open – Hum is like an outdoors cat, coming and going as she pleases; she might make it right in time for breakfast or be here in five minutes, you just never know.

The man lingers in the night's chill, watching the meadows around the Burrow; how they look like somebody had spilled milk on them. By all means, it's not a warm or gentle night, but it's midsummer, so some otherworldly creepiness is a given. His fingers turn white from how hard he clasps them – the anticipation churns inside him, sticky and sweet like molasses.

The moment he steps away to tidy up the journals on his bed a quiet  _pop_  alerts the redhad to whip around and jump back, just in time to miss a white converse to his face; Hum very nearly barrels into him, jumping into the room legs first and landing into a crouch. The air smells like ozone and it tickles where Charlie's hair drip down on his cheeks, and neck--. The woman has a peculiar look in her eyes, as they sweep through him - he reckons it's hunger.

The ruckus startles Hestia and sends the owl beating her wings frantically in the air, some feathers dropping to the floor in the commotion, and Hum jumps to soothe her, a treat ready in her opened palm. It must've crumbled a bit while she apparated, Charlie thinks as he watches Hestia parse through the crumbles carefuly.

There's a tattoo on the inside of Hum's palm now and it does something to him, the eye  _blinking_ slowly-  _When did that happen? Was it there this May? Could he have noticed...?_  Charlie blinks slowly, his brain a bit sluggish this late. He'd remember something this unusual from May.

Until Hestia flies away into the night and he snaps back to reality with the click of the window put back into place. Charlie hears the wood creaking under cautious steps, wills his eyes to open just as the young woman stops in front of him. There's a small opening between them and she's not touching him, leaves the space for introductions.

"Can I give you a hug?", she asks, unsure. Looks like she wants to approach but also ready to jump back for whatever reason. A feral cat, all right.

"Sure", Charlie murmurs, hands inviting her in before he can finish speaking and she pounces him eagerly, legs against his waist.  _Towel? What towel?_

"How is she?", Hum asks in worried whisper and Charlie tenses; he grunts a noncommittal response and the witch hums with understanding, nuzzling to his cheek; over the many years of their friendship they've developed a language of sounds - and the redhead has no proper words for her, just yet. For now, the touch is enough to put his mind at ease.

"We will talk about it when you want to", Hum whispers and presses her forehead to his briefly.

"Did you have a safe travel home?", he wants to know then, and Hum -who's sliding off of him carefully - mumbles something incoherent in response. The witch is clearly distracted by all the skin she sees now, and Charlie snorts at the sneaky glances she steals at the towel on his hips. "Hum...?"

"It's a quick jump from Devon. And your hair needs more toweling, you know", Hum rasps, a bit breathless, and the man watches her take a cautious step back. She fiddles with her dress, hand opening and closing; Charlie follows her fingers splayed against her thighs, how the material ripples where she grips it. He tries not to gulp audibly. 

The lily white dress she wears looks damp around the knees and Hum's sneakers are soaked through as well.  _Unacceptable._  Charlie wants to towel her himself, and has half a mind that there's one such towel around his hips to do just that.

"Speak for yourself, love", he answers instead, already mid-turn to go and fetch some for her. "Take this off, by the way", he adds over his arm - his mouth surprisingly dry - and disappears into the corridor. He finds the linen cupboard as if on default, then puts his pjs with one hand in the damp bathroom. Looks at himself in the slightly cracked mirror, decides to keep his hair wet after all, flowing freely for once.

A weak murmur of warding spells reaches him just as he's about to open the doors and Charlie sure as hell hopes everyone sleep deeply right now – he knows for sure anything louder would wake his sister up; these days she sleeps lightly. He listens for any noises outside, but it looks like everyone's asleep. It should be quiet from now on – the spells will insulate the whole room like a cocoon.

Floor shines unnaturally where he steps on making his way towards the woman, a trail of colourful blotches where his feet fall; glimmering shapes sneak onto the walls, creeping on the ceilings like ivy vines – and stay like that. His room glows like Forbidden Forest during Beltane now and the man lets out a quiet  _bangin'_ , with feeling.

Hum sends him an indulgent smile from where she stands across the room. "Figured your parents need their sleep", she purrs, balancing on one foot, the other bent against her knee. He looks at her and shakes his head a little; the witch hovers by his desk, feet naked but dress still on.

"What, didn't want to soak the bed", she protests the unsaid accusation and shrugs, fingers tracing the small dragon figurine he whittled the day before. "This is nice", she whispers. "And -ooh, a skull phone!" - her eyes positively shine now.

Charlie merely quirks his brow up, and gestures gallantly for her to sit down. Hum jumps onto bed with a soft thud and a giggle, puts her feet on his lap as soon as he sits himself. Between them, whoever gets too adventurous in the woods gets to be taken care of. It's an all over a very sweet deal – snagged him some quality cuddles in the past.

He takes her legs by the ankles, gives her feet little tickle and folds the towel around, before she can snatch them away.

"Why did the dress have to stay?", Charlie murmurs as he slides onto the floor for better access and looks up, his tone casual but breath hitching the slightest bit; the towel bundled up around her ankles and going upwards.

Hum looks a little bit bashful, mumbling something about not feeling cold after all and Charlie gives a loud  _tsk_  as he fingers the material himself – it's soaking wet and cold, and there are pine needles clinging to the underside. But it's not like he can take it off for her, right.  _Isn't it_? And let's be honest, drying spells would be so  _unromantic-_

He lifts the dress a little, flicks a conifer needle away and wonders how far should he towel – and if there were some spare pjs for her as well. There are more scrapes and discolourations that he uncovers, and a nasty bruise reveals itself once her dress rides a bit up under his knuckle. Hum's face looks a little gaunt in the moonlight. Lots of things to talk about.

"You're still thin, are you eating properly?", he wants to know and Hum lists off things she's eating these days, counting on her fingers – it's all classic French cooking, heavy on cream and butter; the man raises his brows when she mentions having to eat meat for health reasons from time to time now – there's not much healthy eating going on here, _at all._

"Pleasure's much more important, you know", Hum points out loftily, nose high up in the air – and Charlie tickles her mercilessly for that, her body soft and finally a bit more squishy under his hands, their laughter swallowing all the previous pompousness. She tries to buy her way out with kisses and sweet nothings whispered to his ear in breathy tone but Charlie is a ruthless tickler - he enjoys the feeling of her squirming in his arms a little bit too much. 

The woman wiggles against him, breathless and tear stricken from laughing – when it's too much, she puts her foot on his chest, keeping him at bay.

"No more", she wheezes, but allows him to cuddle to her eventually - from the safe distance of the floor. Charlie comments on how cold she is, loudly and  _pointedly;_ he understand his Mom's hennish tendencies fully now – the woman on his bed  _will_ share his body warmth, if not his pajamas tonight.

Fortunately Hum's gained some weight recently, the redhead feels when she snakes her arms around him, warm and heaving from all the laughing – but is still too tiny for his clothes.  _And Bill's better stay away_  – the proud W on her chest made him feel funny back in the day.

"What are you thinking about, with  _this_ kind of face?", Hum asks and snorts when the man fumes a quiet "no way his clothes would fit you anyway, you're too small", as he kneads the squisher parts of her belly and thighs like a cat. His tone is half tender, half exasperated – jealousy barely ever manifests in Charlie anyway, and he'd die before holding the sweater debacle against Bill.

"So – get the dress off, please?", Charlie drawls, gesturing to his shirt. "I'm willing to trade", he adds playfully. He'd rock this dress for sure.

Hum takes a moment to respond, fiddling with the small purse at her side.

"I brought you a gift, love", she says vaguely instead, producing a pomegranate and rolling it towards him on her thigh.  _Speak about acting cagey tonight_.

"I'll take it", Charlie says patiently, rolling it back upwards with a single finger, "if you take my shirt in exchange. Can't have you die of consumption now".

Her fingers creep down on his arm as the witch leans down and gives him a light kiss on the forehead. "Romantic as this sounds...", she muses, rolling the sleeves of his pjs around his wrists absentmindedly, "I plan to outlive us all anyway thanks to dark, dark magic. The dress can stay". Pompous  _and_  stubborn, his necromancer doll.

"Dark magic, for real?", Charlie snorts and she merely  _hmphs_.

"Point is, I"ll be fine". For some reason she doesn't look keen on undressing and Charlie tries to remember the drying charm instead on pressing any further. Damn the late hour, what was the incantation-

Hum's tattoo leaves a trail of biting warmth where the eye touches his skin as she gives him a light hug, murmuring sweet reassurances to his hair. It feels less alienating now, like getting gently singed by a newly hatched drakling. It's familiar kind of fire.

There's a suspicious hum in her chest when he still asks "why?", and they exchange withering stares – Hum looks like a raccoon caught stealing trash and he's seen her in those kinds of situations in the past, he  _knows_ the look.

Charlie's hand slides along her thigh, and there's some flimsy material on her hips all right.  _Then why the guilty eyes_ -

 "Look, I was bathing in the light of the full moon-", she sighs dramatically, leaning back against the wall with a wizened expression - looking like a hag gearing to spin her tale.

"-like people usually do, yeah", Charlie slides into her sentence smoothly, fingers drumming against her leg. He juggles the fruit in his free hand and Hum flips him casually. Then she pulls him onto the bed with a finger hooked onto his knuckle, like it's nothing. The pomegranate rolls to the floor then. There's magic involved behind this strength, Charlie decides because  _there's no way_ -. His body follows anyway, clumsily.

"I threw the dress on at some point I think, and took a walk for a while".

Hum's voice is quiet in his ear, hands smoothing his hair where it has started to curl at the ends. She aligns herself so close to him, it feels that just a push would have them blend in together - Charlie's hand slips under the dress and massages gentle shapes on her thighs, her leg slipping between his.

"Then I found a fern flower, at least I think this was it", her whisper dies at the end and sure enough, Charlie takes a delicate bloom from behind her ear. It's cold to his hand and he drops it between their bodies. He remembers that its blessing may very well turn into a curse and looks at Hum with tender exasperation. She merely stretches herself on her back, takes his palm in hers and squeezes it reassuringly. Their fingers stay entwined like that.

"Did you have an honest battle for it at least, with evil spirits proper?", Charlie teases and puts the flower on her stomach, watching it raise and fall down with each deep breath she takes. What can be the worst thing this flower could do? It certainly looks magical - but then what doesn't on a night like that.

"If you count slipping on the wet grass", the witch grumbles.  _This explains the wet bum_ , Charlie thinks and lifts himself to sit on the bed. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and Hum's eyes zero in on his fingers immediately. The room is very cold and the redhead suspects it's all the grey spells seeping into the air. Unholy stuff, those shapes glowing overhead – then again, she is very close to holy in his eyes, so this evens out. He gestures to her to take the dress away - or at least start thinking about that drying spell.

Charlie clears his throat and catches Hum lifting her eyes finally, from where they've been glued to the skin peeking through the material. "My eyes are up here", he teases and the witch winks at him shamelessly. She looks hungry and it's both exhilarating and downright frightful. Very much welcomed though. His fingers keep slipping on the buttons - it's  _this_  much welcomed.

Hum takes over with deft fingers when she spots him fumbling and accepts his help in turn. He takes away the purse, from where its strap crosses her chest. And when her arms remain in the air, eyes tinkling mischievously, and "sure, go on" comes out of her lips in a low tone-- - the redhead hesitates for a fraction of a second, before he lifts her dress as well; up and over her head, the zipper already made short work of.

" _Bollocks_ ", he hisses emphatically, hands falling on his lap heavily the next second.  _The dress was thrown on as an afterthought_ , all right. 

"What", the woman grumbles defensively, not even trying to cover herself – she accepts the shirt that he clumsily slips on her, swats his hand from where it's ready to start buttoning her up.

Instead she reaches down, ignoring how Charlie's jaw seems painfully locked in a very dumbfounded expression - and lifts the pomegranate from the floor.

"It's perfectly ripe", she says, "we can share it". She knows exactly what she's doing to him, Charlie could bet.

When her companion can't produce any words still, the witch shrugs and rummages in the purse for a-

"Switchblade", Charlie drones on, tone brittle as a crushed brick. "You had time to pack this, and"- he takes the shirt in front of her, covers the tiny breasts that keep stubbornly peeking out, in one decisive swoop; it looks like it's costing him a lot "-and a flimsy belt to just, you know, wrap yourself up with, and yet--".

"The belt is for magic, it's 6th of July", Hum reminds him stoically, fingering the ribbon that marks the middle of her stomach with all the carelessness in the world. "And it's safe to wear it today, with ale spirits out there? The rest was optional".

 _Optional,_  she says like it's most obvious thing in the world. Charlie's head swims a little. He wants to ask about the decision to  _stay celibate_  until they figure things out – but snaps his mouth shut. He outgrew it a while ago anyway. Something swirls deep in his stomach and the redhead glues his eyes to her hands, feeling like a total twit  _by not ogling those_ -

Hum bisects the fruit then, in one decisive motion that has Charlie wondering what exactly gave her this kind of expertise, because she surely didn't practice cutting things up before. He never saw her peeling an apple without her wand, for Merlin's sake.

Crimson liquid bubbles through the cut and Hum balances the halves in her hands with a serious face. She catches his stare and startles.

"I used to conjure a lot of barren lemons, back in the beginning", the witch supplies an answer to an unasked question exasperatedly then, and Charlie snickers. Her baby necromancer days were rather endearing, he remembers. Must've sliced a lot of those, and didn't Flamel use one for the sauce when he'd visited last year...?

The pomegranate is fully ripened, true, juice slicking Hum's fingers in crimson that seeps down in small rivulets, onto her stomach and down, between her thighs...to avoid thinking about it, Charlie accepts his half and shoves a whole chunk of it, skin included, and swallows thickly.

He watches her pour a handful of seeds in her mouth then, and the man rips another lump a bit too forcefully – now his hands are stained red as well; the drops pepper his pajama trousers soon enough and Hum cackles.

"My, what a mess", the witch comments offhandedly and licks her fingers thoroughly; catches Charlie's stare and her lips stretch into a smile not entirely human – it's probably magic or maybe Charlie is just a bit tired.

It's nearing 2 a.m now, the man realizes, looking at his old dragon clock – its tail will move as the full hour comes.  _God, it'll definitely go back to Romania_ , he decides then, thoughts everywhere but on his bed.

"You swerved the conversation, Hum", the redhead observes casually as he accepts another piece of the fruit next – at this point the duvet between them looks like drenched in blood, but he could care less. "Why this naked, on a cold night? Please tell me it's not something forbidden-".

Charlie thinks getting back at the floor is the best course of action for now – doesn't know yet if he's being seduced or cursed, or perhaps both. Wouldn't complain either way, it feels like months too long after their talk at her Gran's in May. He needs some distance between them, to allow some rational thoughts into his mind once again. So far, they've mostly mirrored the pomegranate juice on Hum's skin, only they slid  _upwards_  her body-

"Maybe I want to die of consumption", the woman grumbles back, but snickers just the same. "Honestly, I just threw on whatever I could find", she says and shrugs, like visiting your partner half naked was a Thing between them. It isn't. It  _could_  be.

The witch in front of him yawns and lies on her side, his shirt left unbuttoned and pomegranate juice dripping on the sheets now. Charlie catches the sight of her naked stomach and what's upwards, and his breath hitches. "You can join me", she pats the bed invitingly. "You must be cold, so shirtless-", she murmurs, batting her eyelashes at him.

It seems as good time as ever for their past decision of  _taking things slowly_  to kindly throw itself out of the window, two years after talking about it. What other day than summer solstice, of course.  _Thank gods for parents sleeping on fourth floor then_ , high above them. The man lets out a strained breath then. He wants to--  _he wants to do great many things_  but right now it's mostly a hornets' nest in his mind. Doesn't know how to put it into words, so he opts to just poke Hum's leg with index finger, curious if it would colour his finger red. It does.

"Aren't your legs sticky? Can I just-check?", he chooses to ask, her murmured assent moving his fingers to trace where the juice drips on her thighs. It feels surreal to be privileged to do just that, ask and be given.

"It's the same for me", Hum whispers then - it must've shown on his face, or maybe he spoke out loud?

"I'm--" Charlie can't speak much now, so leaves it as it is, plays with the ribbon on her stomach instead. "Can you take it off? As in today?". Somehow it's important she loses it just then.

He's shivering in the cold and would very much like to just climb under the covers with the alchemist just as she suggested - but doesn't want to move too fast and right now he feels like pouncing on her like a dragon on his prey. "Talk to me, please", he breathes eventually, teeth chattering now. Is there a ghost in here with them? Charlie doesn't know but it certainly feels unnatural.

"We have all night for that, in the meantime you should cover yourself up", Hum points out with concern and slides on the floor to stand in front of him. She's all tanned skin and wiry muscles but that cute pooch on her belly never quite disappeared and Charlie wants to drag her down onto him right then an there. The duvet falls around his arms in the next second and he can't help but sigh contentedly, eyes closed. It's very silent in the room, the dragon clock doesn't tick anymore and Charlie asks about the ghost after all. Can't ever be sure.

 "It's the witching hour soon", the woman above him supplies then and hisses. "Should have done this before", and a drying spell breezes through their bodies at last. He missed the incantation once again - it was whispered too quietly. Her fingers on his cheeks, petting him gently and guilt colours her voice in richer hue. "And now you're freezing. I'm sorry-".

 "So we basically chose the worst time to get half-naked together, didn't we?", Charlie rasps and tugs at the silken ribbon perfunctorily. "Or did you do it on purpose?", he wants to know. Hum's voice seems stuck in her throat suddenly and her lips are trembling-

 "I got so tired of fasting, back in May", she whispers back in a strung confession eventually, hands wringing. "The hour didn't matter until it has started to, it's not safe now-".

 "Is it ever?", Charlie asks in a low voice and lifts himself from the floor. He's at her height still but it's rather obvious who spends their time wrangling dragons. "I won't touch you without enthusiastic agreement, you know", he assents but her hands already guide his and then travel around his waist, until she almost stands at his feet.

Charlie shivers and lets out a shaky breath - he never felt her this naked and his hands try to touch and squeeze every inch that's immediately available as if their time could run out any moment now. She presses into him with a breathy sigh and kisses him greedily, that wickedly long tongue of hers disarming. "Slow down", he pants eventually, tired and shaky just from kissing this deep. "Let's lay down some groundwork maybe?" and Hum shifts to simply hug him, murmuring her agreement.

"Do you need a contract? Because we have the back of a post it for it", she teases, breathy at the end, when she feels him close so snugly around her - but not before Charlie patiently glues his shirt off her skin. 

"Maybe let's do this step by step, less writing", he breathes. "You're too pretty, damn it", he cusses and throws the material away; she's wearing only her knickers and he catches her eyeing his pants to which he wags his finger at her. "Pace yourself", he teases . Guesses it's her choice if she wants to lose anything else, and given how scared he realizes he is suddenly, the man settles on simply dragging his fingers along the gentle curve of her stomach.

He makes no attempt at the belt just yet but allows for one palm to climb upwards, looking for acceptance in Hum's eyes.

"You're free to touch me, and I mean that tit, if you can find it", Hum rolls her eyes and laughs out loud when his dragging fingernail tickles the skin there. Her nipple breaks out in goosebumps, but it can be because of the cold. Her touch gets the same results with his though, and she dips her head down, giving a loving bite there. She looks like she wants to go down further still, but thinks better of it.

"I have no fucking idea what I'm doing, but I'm gonna do it anyway", Hum murmurs resolutely, as if she's the courageous one, but she has her eyes clasped shut and is surprisingly pale under early summer tan. Either it's the witching hour or-

"If you're scared, we can just sit down-" and "I think I'm scared-"comes out of their mouths at the same time and they find comfort in a simple hug, no lips involved. All this is just too overwhelming, with so little between them now.

"I'm just way too excited", Charlie says into Hum's hair, anxious not to lose even a sliver of her body heat.

His hands can't settle anywhere for long and he hisses when one of her long fingernails slips under his waistband – it's a whole palm after that and just a ghost of her touch makes him lurch. It's alarmingly real, everything that's happening right now and he leans into her hand at first, then guides it upwards still.

"- and it feels like pain", he breathes into her mouth so Hum settles on massaging gentle circles into his lower back now, respectful of his wishes.

 "Do you remember when we talked about  _this_?", she asks, looking at his fingers hooked on her panties, the chiffon there stained red from the pomegranate as well. Charlie traces the lines of the spilled red then, feathering ghostly touches that follow the red down, down until he can swallow her sighs for himself.

"I don't need you keeping celibate, Hum", the redhead says seriously then. "Neither do I plan on it, outside of work". Their time together it too sparse not to be as close as possible, and two years of this soul searching had him thinking Thoughts recently.

"I'm just helpless here", Charlie confesses grudgingly – not necessarily smooth lover he is shaping up to be.

"We can roll the die, you know.  _Chase the dragons_ \--", Hum mumbles into his skin, from where her cheek touches his neck and the redhead laughs out loud – he feels lighter now.

"Skill check-?", he asks, hands cradling her face till her cheeks puff up.

"Initiative, obviously", Hum purrs and it sounds rather comically.

She pushes him gently back and moves to his desk, hips swaying in a silent provocation. They used to play a lot at school, mostly with Bill, Rowan and Ben and it's easy for her to find the proper die once she opens the first drawer. "So, who goes first?". The witch lifts her hand then, but Charlie shakes his head – can't peel his eyes off her body all the same.

"I don't remember my stats", he whines and Hum's jaw falls.

"Head or tails for starting privileges then", the witch chuckles and stalks to where he's supporting himself against the wall, a muggle five pence coin trailing behind her that she  _accio_ -ed with the flick of her hand. Charlie gathers her into his arms, happy he had time to sort his thoughts and emotions - the redhead feels more confident that he could take her on now, witching hour or not; that he wants to is out of doubts.

"If it's heads-", Hum starts and stops. "God I'm parched, do you have any glass in here?", she finishes with a rasp, looking around.

"Allow me", Charlie stills her gently; he concentrates –  _it'd be really lame if_ _I_ _couldn't go wandless right now,_ he thinks – and wills his favourite coca cola glass to land in Hum's outstretched hand. She clinks her fingernail against the edge and the glass fills with water. They exchange satisfied smiles and take turns drinking –  _it's indirect kissing_!

"What was I saying-", Hum muses, putting the glass on the floor and smirks at Charlie. "I remembered your stats, by the way-"

"Later love, and please be creative with what you wish for, if it's heads", Charlie whispers tenderly, a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose silencing her quiet "I get a wish...?".

"Why not make it like that-", the young man shrugs delicately and puts his hands on her hips. "-whoever loses gets to do whatever we'll have agreed to right now".  _We need to start losing_ _some clothes_   _soon_ , he thinks and feels surprised at himself - it's been at least a year too long now and he thinks his pants are gonna burst any second now. The redhead lets Hum go only so that she could toss the coin freely; his arm holds her in place and closer to him still and she hooks her leg against his.

"If it's heads then-hm". Hum's eyes search his face, slide down ostentatiously then. "you go down on the bed and stay there". It's so vague, Charlie feels his stomach boiling, in both anticipation and slight wariness. It can mean anything and nothing,  _he could get devoured-_

He wouldn't mind, actually.

"Then you stay where you are, if it's tails", he whispers after a moment's deliberation. "Moving your leg is optional", the man adds mischievously and Hum sucks in her breath.

Then she tosses the coin high up towards the ceiling.

 

2. 

"What do you see...", Hum hears Charlie murmur with satisfaction, from where he kneels down to see how the coin has landed. "Seems we're staying where we are".

She wants to wipe that shit-eating grin from his face but feels thrilled to obey just as well. Opts to shift her weight from one foot onto another - her legs feel like cotton candy. 

"I was wondering about that pomegranate juice, you see", Charlie says, finishing the last of the water they left on the floor. The room hasn't grown any warmer since she lost her shirt but Hum feels all sweltering suddenly. Perhaps she overdid it with the fruit imagery.

"Did you, um-like the taste?", the witch asks in breaking voice, licking her lips nervously. She clasps her knees together, the chill making them tremor, or maybe it's the desire; hard to say at this point, she's so scared. Her skin is slicked with the liquid, and it feels sticky, coagulating on site – frozen on her body in little streamlets now. She wishes to be free from it – and this man, the sweetest love she has, merely snickers at her...

"Can't decide, really". He takes the duvet from the floor and bundles it around her arms tightly, kisses her briefly and Hum wants more of it; he moves onto her collarbones and next she feels him at her solar plexus - and her sight can no longer serve her, so she closes her eyes. And it's a bit awkward to stand in place because she wants to reciprocate  _right away_  so badly, but he has experience in taming larger things than her, and it's not like Hum doesn't want him to slide downwards still-

Nobody has given her any licks anywhere  _ever_ , so it feels weirder still when it's the gentlest guy she's ever met that makes her double down with a hiss. His fingers ghost at the seams of her briefs but Charlie takes his damn time to move the flimsy material even an inch; looks deceptively more interested in all the rest and Hum feels drenched by the time there's not even a droplet of pomegranate left on her.

The witch sees speckles of white in her vision and wants nothing more than to just fall to her knees. Instead she conjures water for him, reaching for the glass blindly with one foot. Charlie drinks it and kisses her ankle softly. "Not even remotely done", he warns her and Hum feels dizzy, so she just lets him hook her knee onto his arm.

"Charlie, you're so in for this torture", Hum drawls but is altogether unwilling to stop, both his fingers as they slid beneath the material of her panties and move it ever so slightly to the side - and the tentative swirl of a tongue that follows.

"I may enjoy its taste, now", he murmurs against her skin, and when he mentions tasting sweet and salt Hum nearly blacks out. Neither the novels she borrowed from Ismelda - nor the risky stuff she watched with Rowan once - told her anything remotely useful on how to behave without looking like a fucking clown – but she's certain some things are pleasurable and some underwhelming, and tells Charlie so.

"Tell me more", he breathes and looks up, skin on his face a bit damp with sweat and cheeks red. He must've conjured a hair tie after all at some point, and Hum gives his ponytail a playful tug now - her smile is like of a drunk predator, Charlie observes then and it does funny things to her. She'd like to devour him very much.

"For once, and don't laugh because I've read it in a sexy novel-", Hum whispers and drags a finger across his lips, marveling at how a slick sheer glazes the unnatural red there.

"-it's kinda like kissing a flower right?", and Charlie laughs but watches her closely, like an attentive student he always had been. They were finally living up to the stupid rumours from their prefect days and Hum finds the irony delicious.

"Am I supposed to nip the flower at the bud or-". He plays around with the metaphor a little too well and Hum moans something about the petals and shuts up, actually content with the progress. You don't get to be a prefect without some studying skills after all.

She enjoys how artful his calloused fingers turn out to be, despite their size, as they slip one by one inside of her – Charlie could be a skilled musician, truly, and even though that metaphor is overused, the witch still feels like screaming like a fox. She wants the belt gone and it gives her a start – it  _can't_  go. Her heart thumps painfully in her chest - anxiety gets swallowed by pleasure fast enough though.

Just then the dragon clock screeches, its tail swishing erratically. Hum curses and jumps back, dragging a very startled Charlie along. They get tangled in the duvet and land on the floor in a pained heap, Hum's panties dangling around her ankle. "It's 3 a.m", the witch whispers anxiously from under the man, each of the swishes of the dragon's tail reflected in her eyes that grow glassy then.

"Nine beats", Charlie observes, grimacing, and helps her slide her panties in place. "It's never been like that. Is it you?".

"Whatever it is, let's not risk it", Hum says but kisses him just the same, tasting herself - and that feels surreal all right. The risk is one thing, the pull she feels now brings her almost physical pain as well – and she understands why Charlie took her hand away then, but couldn't let her go in turn. She drags him on top of her, the hardness she could feel against her stomach leaving her suddenly famished.

The magic between them grows tangible with every swish of the dragon's tail in the meantime, the air shifting into something almost alive. Shapes etched onto the ceiling and the floor waver then - and start breaking in showers of colourful dust.

"Please tell me the Burrow won't fall straight into hell just because we almost had sex", Charlie pleads, and when he states it like that Hum can't help but laugh out loud; a full belly laugh that works like a warding spell, at least in her mind - so naturally, it should work outside just as well. She wills it so, and the dust from broken wards suspends itself over the floor the moment Hum sets her mind to it fully. She gives him a wolfish grin, pink with pride.

"Hopefully not. I brought a purse full of holey stones just in case though", the witch reassures him further, and it's Charlie's turn to cackle. "I can't promise we won't conceive an Antichrist if you won't stop trying to untangle that ribbon, however", she warns him then lightly and the redhead stops as if his hands are on fire. It's very amusing, if totally untrue. There are other bad things that could happen however – and Hum is torn whether she wants to find out.

"Just what kind of magic exactly are we invoking?", the man wants to know, between kisses he leaves on her skin, and Hum shakes her head, face morose.

"We're not. I'm giving up my turn – the bed is all gold from the dust, look".

She tries to play it all blase, but the anxiety is almost real - almost being key word here. Surely whatever comes out of breaking their celibacy now can't be worse than stealing the fern flower had been, right? The flower lies already wilted next to her thigh now, the colour of scorched parchment. A curse, then. It can explode on itself, for all Hum cares - especially when her love looks so dashing as tonight.

Charlie looks deep in thought – Hum is afraid his adventurous tendencies may only get compounded now. Afraid  _or excited_ , at the moment everything she feels coalesces into each other. She doesn't want to separate just yet – and laying on the floor together feels satisfying when she doesn't know where her legs begin and his end.

"It's a powerful magic, giving into each other during the Summer Solstice right?", Charlie wants to know and the suspiciously enthusiastic flash in his eyes teases similar level of recklessness in Hum, as is usual between them. Fail to exorcise Asteria's house and then  _sleep in it_ in their teens, all innocent,  _and_  make love on the witching hour years later - the way they chased the rush of their school years would surely raise few brows.

"You know, Bill comes back tomorrow afternoon-", Charlie throws casually, untangling himself and raising up, his face all straight. Hum feels lacking when there's no body next to her and raises to a crouch after him, ready to pounce. Wonders how his skin would look peppered in the magical dust under her-

"You owe me a wish, you want to say", she says airily and Charlie freezes.

"I  _WAS_ going to suggest we apparate to your place, but I can do it for you here just as well"

"Then do it", she throws back equally blase, yearning both boiling and freezing underneath her skin at intervals. It is happening -  _whatever's happening_  - and her creativity just took a suicidal jump, the moment she saw Charlie obediently lift the duvet from the ground (it looks a bit worse for wear after all the throwing it around) – and lay down on the bed with the shittiest grin she's ever seen him produce.

"That was easy". He stretches himself languidly, shameless and without a care in the world, like a cat. There's a peak black magic activity going on around him and he just-

"I think I've cursed you", Hum moans but Charlie just shrugs. It's peak idiocy but Hum is fully enamored with the sheer ballsiness, if she's ever been less in love to begin with.

"As long as there's no offspring to send back to hell, I'll take it", Charlie drawls and winks at her - and Hum gulps audibly. It's her who's standing over him and in control,  _why the hell_ \- She wants to pay him back but then she's also enjoying his confidence – Romania made him a man in his rightful place and it shows.

She's awashed with a sense of delight that's difficult to bear. Perhaps the move to Romania would be the easiest way – but nothing beat meeting like that, in love with each other and their passions in equal measure. Parisian crypts, his reserve – their haunts were only as far away as they would make it-

"You can touch me, you know", Charlie mirrors her earlier words breathily and Hum leans down, puts a knee on the very edge of the bed, tentatively as if she was approaching a, well, a dragon. Very chill one, but still.

He reaches out to help her out of her panties and Hum swats his hand away – "no touching", she hisses. "I need time to explore you properly, you know".

"I don't think I'll be able to stick around for that long enough, I'm afraid", Charlie whispers, eyes closing as her palm travels along his side, under the waistband of his pants-

And goes up back, just as his eyes snap out, in time to meet a pair of her own, just above. "You have dust all over you", Hum whispers from above, knees locking his arms by his sides. She jumped him quietly and lightly like mist – and Charlie complains about the lack of body contact, arches into her despite a hand pressing him  _down_.

"I wonder if I should change the colour of the sheets", Hum muses casually, allowing her weight to settle down a bit. He mostly curses in response. "Make them red", she finishes in whisper.

Charlie's hand moves under her knee, taps the white of the material and red blooms around them, until it swallows the bedding whole, as Hum watches with fascination – the friction of her turning and looking behind her arm makes the man beneath wheeze. He wants the material  _gone_ , asap.

"If you won't absolve me of my pants right now-", he starts in a tortured moan but she's already doing just that, long nails dragging along his sides as a special form of torture. The witch is ostentatiously slow and deliberate when she stands up, masks her impatience with cloying and takes her sweet, sweet time before even laying her hands on him. That should teach him-

 _Is this going inside of me?_ , she blurts with anxiety and Charlie hides behind his hand in mortification. "Please don't say it like that", he stammers and Hum giggles. His innocence allows for her boldness to shine – even if all she wants to do is to turn tails and curl under the bed. She wants all of him though, and that brings some of her courage back. And damn if the size could stop her-

The tattooed eye blinks at her lazily before she closes her hand around him - she tries to touch lightly, tests how his skin feels and is very satisfied when he curses really ugly. Charlie's mom certainly  _did not_  brought him up to speak like that but Hum could drink profanity from him like this on any day.

The witch barely leaves him any time to adjust, besides a cursory lick to her mouth and a playful wink, before she leans down-

Devours him then, after all. 

"What the-", Charlie's voice falters and breaks, hands wringing the sheets desperately – the witch stops, and plants a gentle kiss on his fist, till it relaxes. "Tell me if you want to stop", she says seriously, earning an owlish glance from where he hides his face behind splayed fingers. She gives him an experimental lick then, mirroring the ways he carved her skin with his tongue before, and it's just expletives that escape his mouth then.

Her head is spinning a bit – she wants to touch and taste everything, doesn't know where to start and almost chokes on her own saliva at some point. Charlie's fingers keep trying to find purchase in her hair but slip away with Hum's every movement.Her name dies on his lips mid-breath and she hopes he'd stop her if he was in pain--

"I'm not hurting you, am I?", the woman asks worriedly, lips parched and belly on fire. She summons the water, spills it on his stomach in her rush to  _go back_  - and has great fun in licking it all off his skin.

 "Feels like you're killing me", Charlie rasps seriously in an eventual answer, and then snickers, one eye crinkling from where he hides his face. "Don't stop, if you can", he adds pleadingly and looking at his dilated pupils, Hum's own eyes grow black with hunger, mouth salivating as if he was one of Mme Flamel's famous éclairs with chocolate mousse. She tells him so.

"Only with cream", she purrs shamelessly and Charlie positively mewls, eyes rolling at the same as " _oh god, the filth--_ " escapes his mouth weakly. The witch wonders if the audacity killed him – he's so vulnerable under her body, skin delicate and thin where her fingers land..."I'll go gentler than my mouth, I promise", she mumbles against his skin innocently and Charlie watches her warily, eyes sliding down along the glide of her lips – he moans and trashes his head into the pillow when she gives him one particularly strong lick. Charlie lies on his back like an obedient creature, trusting but a bit anxious - and Hum feels roughly the same. His body is only a partly charted map right now – and she fears she will never have enough time to fully embrace its vitality. And it's hard to keep her eyes open if she wants to concentrate on  _taste_  and  _touch_ \--

Her wariness once again makes the room feel like before storm – the dust from the broken wards moves down like waterfall finally, and showers them in glittering golds and baby blues. They both startle, separate somewhat unwillingly-

"The glitter-", Charlie mouths, nettled, and Hum shrugs. The witch flashes her tongue cheekily at him - it's now the colour of molten gold, " _and it's so long"_ , he breathes in awe-

The witch can't decide where exactly she wants him right then, but it's definitely inside – she says it out loud, grinding herself against his thigh and Charlie groans quietly, hides his face further. This demureness makes Hum feel ravenous, blood rushing to her head like a fountain, dizziness pushing her down on him-

The woman intends to repay him in full but there are some difficulties; she enjoys the discomfort at times, allowing herself space to explore and back off at will - and it's not like Charlie can talk much right now. It's easier when she hides her teeth -

He tastes like bitter tonic in her mouth not long after that, and Hum whispers jokingly into his ear about it, Charlie's face pushed into a pillow and lips trembling. She drinks in the look on his face, commits it to deepest memory she can access. The smugness erupts in her slowly, as if somebody crushed a robin's egg inside – small and brittle, but eye-catching. Hum takes in a shaky breath, remembers the tender boy whose soul matters to her more than hers - and wills the predatory instincts to flow down from her. Charlie looks half-dead and that worries her – she knows what the French say about  _la petite mort--_ but surely, couldn't have sucked all his life force out, couldn't she-- -  _pun not intended?_

"I'm alive", the redhead assures her with a dramatic sigh and lifts himself up, catches her mouth in a languid kiss – it's so wet and sloppy, Hum can't help but moan. A pure soul, her ass. "You're going under the covers though", he says and pulls her onto him, the duvet around them like a fluffy pancake.

"Could feel your shivering all the way down, you know" he whispers then and Hum giggles, kisses the place where his brow got singed off tenderly – she's more relaxed now, no pressure to deliver but simple curiosity burning peacefully inside. She wants another go as soon as possible but also doesn't know how to ask-

"Do you want more?", Charlie whispers as if on cue, his hand already hovering between her legs. "Obviously", she whispers, allowing him to peel off her panties finally; it feels like being unable to stop drinking for them when they finally kiss. Hum plasters herself off him eventually, catches his thoughtful stare and startles a bit.

"Well, maybe let me breath some more; important,  _breathing_ ", she rambles and Charlie stretches himself along the bed fully, encapsulating her in a hug that sends fire to her belly - but also chases some of the strung out tension away.

He wants to kiss her – dips down, just when Hum sneezes into his pillow, and gets a mouthful of her hair instead. "Wow, we're really clueless about it, aren't we?", the witch grumbles, sniffling, and Charlie snickers, forehead against her own. His eyes are closed, Hum sees with her own crisscrossed, but it's his small smile that makes her tremble.  _So damn cute._

He agrees with her eventually, his own thoughts surprisingly similar – perhaps they should take things step by step.  _Read some sexy novels together_ , Hum deadpans rolling on top of him and Charlie blanches. He clearly doesn't want the joke about " _Breeding dragons..._ " title series-- kisses Hum greedily just when she starts uttering it, and she snakes her leg around his, comfortable now – just an inch closer, her legs spread more-

"Are you sure about it? I mean it's scary-", Charlie breathes, tucking some hair behind her ear. Hum's heart is pounding and her head swims a little – but she enjoys the tired curve of his lips, how his hair are trying get out of his ponytails and... She very much wants him inside but  _yeah, it is scary_  –

"I definitely want you. But just you, not any children out of it. The belt is for magic, not health", she whispers, drawing circles on his chest, the space between them small enough to share one breath together.

"About that-", Charlie looks like he's been thinking about the same thing and gives her a small smile. "I did some research..."

"Aw, that's sweet. Do the honors then", Hum purrs happily, rolling onto her back like a kitten – she trusts him implicitly. The woman looks up curiously as he leans down and kisses her just above where delicate hair start to curl between her legs. She can't hear him speak, but it's suddenly very cold inside where his fingers trace along and she flails a little, held down by a strong arm-

"Is this --a burn scar?". She catches the sight of melted skin there and her eyes grow big with worry - Charlie looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes zoning in on her fingers already curled there to heal-

"N-oo", he shushes and pries away Hum's reluctant fingers gently. He allows them to rest on his cheek though, secured by his larger palm. Charlie's cheeks are warm and despite the years, still the tiniest bit pudgy as in school - Hum wants to cradle them like the most precious thing in the world and her eyes get misty a bit.

"It looks cool, come on!", he's saying, fuming a bit but accepts a distracted peck on the lips as a consolation. Hum only  _hu-hmphs_ against his skin but true, it is  _h-o-t_  as Diego says, and she settles on planting delicate kisses along the scar tissue, legs parting casually when his fingers creep along her thighs.

"Very cool-", Hum purrs into his mouth but truly, she can barely concentrate on anything beside his fingers sliding inside her now and the witch mumbles something about callouses- the sounds gets stifled with the kiss and Charlie's weight drives her deep into the bed –

\- it sets down with a loud moan and Hum's mouth forms a perfect "o" as his fingers leave her and he slides inside her, torturously slow. That alien feeling body against hers stretches her in ways she's never known and-

"-oh, it hurts all right", Hum whispers and everything comes to a standstill. Charlie hovers over her, shivering – where their skin touches, it's like electricity tickling. The feeling is delicious but it brings tears to her eye just as well. The witch was prepared to accept both pleasure and pain but  _this_  - she can't control how her body acts anymore, and  _it scares her shitless_.

She can feel something slick on her inner thigh and exchanges a bewildered glance with Charlie who lifts himself up, panicked; the tips of his fingers are stained rosy red now. The man explodes into terrified "sorrys" whispered into her hair, the look on his face absolutely apologetic or terrified in turns; his lips are trembling.

"I'm not moving anymore, gonna-get out", the redhead assures her in choked voice and wants to do just that but Hum blocks him with her leg – gives his ponytail a gentle tug to get his attention then. She likes the painful fullness, and spells it against his lips until he moans back.

"You can erm, stay – if you want", the woman stammers weakly when she feels his full weight against her, and Charlie merely sputters something into her ear, too emotional to sound coherent. Sounds vaguely like a question however.

"I'm all right. Just – very alert, I suppose", Hum answers blindly, eyes searching for his and a wry smile etched on her face.

"Just tell me if you want to stop". Charlie's words echo hers and Hum gives him an enthusiastic kiss, murmuring all variations of consent she can come up with. "Seriously Hum, it's a priority", the man breathes between the kisses she steals. He supports himself on the both sides of her face and watches her attentively.

Good that Charlie is usually so levelheaded – they both need to be strong for each other right now, and Hum feels grateful she's in his hands, literally. Wants to shower him with love - but so far it's mostly blood. The air shifts subtly as the glitter around them decays – the coldness breaks like ice, a warm breeze rising from the floor – it moves the colourful dust in tiny whirlwinds.

"I'm prepared for some stinging", Hum drawls, wiggling a bit – and hisses in pain she's just brought on herself.

"This isn't how-The pain isn't-". Charlie doesn't notice how his hair are glittering with gold speckles now, and he looks warm enough on his own not to notice the atmosphere shift – or the window opening slowly. The belt that Hum's wearing becomes constricting around her waist; something changes in the air – magic is at its strongest at the moment.

They try to be as silent as possible – what if they could be heard, after all?

"It's not super painful – just,  _th_ _ere_ ". Hum snakes her leg over his, tests if it hurts still – it does and she wants more. She chooses to ignore whatever's happening around them – they can think about it later, when there's lesser craving for—for what, she doesn't know- it's either Charlie's flesh or soul.

Protectiveness hovers around the darker impulses that stir inside her belly, and Hum rakes her fingers through his hair tenderly – he is way too precious to be simply consumed.

"Anyway, I couldn't have physically welled up more for you, if you care for crude metaphors", she throws casually and they both draw out shaky breaths but smile at each other. "That's your cue to move, by the way".

She tries to sound light about it – but has the half mind to just check for herself if switching positions would give her the same delectable sensations his startled jerk is giving her right then. The woman stills in anticipation, breathless – and feels her body cracks with his movement.  _Like occamy shells_ , Charlie supplies in wondrous whisper and it's Hum's time to push her face into the pillow, lips quivering.

Charlie breathes deep, his fingers delicate against her face as if he was handling a particularly vulnerable creature and Hum thinks herself a little sturdier than that. She huffs out a irritated sound, earning his amused stare and he snaps his hips experimentally.

"Oh-", Hum groans, biting his lower lip at the sharp penetration and Charlie swallows her gasps with a very wet, very deep kiss, his weight delicious against hers. "More", Hum pants and they share an enthusiastic grin.  

The man still wears a slightly worried look on his face as he starts moving, but seems curious to continue just the same – just checks on her every move along the way. Her hips buck towards his; Hum is not content to just remain passive and shes impatient to try out every single position they can think of. She tells him so in a teasing whisper, biting the tip of his ear that's closes to her and Charlie breathes sharply, gives her a tenderly exasperated look. 

"Maybe get comfortable with this, first", he teases and stops when a particular hard thrust has her eyes watering. 

"No-don't you dare go light on me", the witch swats his arm playfully and he tucks her hair behind her ear, kissing one heated cheek, then another. He's trying to find a rhythm that would suit them both and they whisper what they need of each other in turns.

"I'm happy to deliver", Charlie says, his voice scratchy and he bucks into her when Hum pinches his thigh playfully.

"Don't be so selfless", she mouths at him and they snicker at each other. 

"I love you", he says, moaning when the woman beneath him gather him onto herself deeper, asking to let go and just smother her a little. Charlie looks a bit apprehensive about that. This seems a bit too selfless to Hum, truthfully – she's dying to make him feel good, not just enjoy his attentiveness –

\- but her hands are pressed into the bed right then, his body far heavier than she could imagine after all and for a while all magnanimous intentions she's had simply fly out of the window.

She watches him slide inside after getting out almost fully, transfixed on this man that looks suddenly so new, this developed, and Hum moans when he drives deep into her, his body giving her no quarter. She's seen him naked before, once or twice but this, this is new and so exciting, she wishes to explore everything he's willing to offer--

The pain shifts into something else after a while, a vicious tickling inside her stomach that can't ever be really quelled. Except by more movement – and she asks for it in a pained whisper. "If you behave", Charlie teases, wagging his finger playfully at the hungry grimace on her face.

He moves her leg until it bends at the knee – and pushes her deeper into the bed, mouth on her nipple until it almost bleeds. Hum wants him to go faster, the slowness and depth of his moves pushing her to bare her teeth at him like a vicious animal. Charlie enjoys denying her a pleasure this easy – and stops when she's at the point of biting him for real this time.

" _Weasley, shag me or kill me_ \--", she snarls and writhes against him when he does exactly this – does both to her, really. Her head rolls backwards, the thrusts so on point, she cries, eyes clasped shut.

"Hum", she hears Charlie speaking then, a tickle to her side that sends her giggling, and then cursing  _ungodly_  because it makes her clamp around him in interesting ways – the witch throws her head back into the pillow, eyes unable to open against all the bliss that had nothing to do with his fingers then.

"-Hum, look at me", the redhead reitrates patiently, amused when she cracks one eye up, mouth downturned. "Don't close your eyes", he whispers, drawing her upwards, into his arms – they're sitting on the bed now, legs entwined. The witch avoids his eyes, suddenly evasive. It doesn't help he's even deeper than before – it's a wonder they fit at all; it's a wonderful kind of fullness though.

Hum is scared of looking and be looked at, to be honest – the vulnerability makes it so easy to just close her eyes and enjoy;  _but what's the point of being close at all then_ , she thinks slowly – you can be distant without tearing your clothes off each other.

"You keep  _your_  eyes open", she grumbles eventually, her mind made up, and the woman pushes him down on the bed sheets; Charlie's hair haloes around his face when the witch snatches the hair tie for herself. "Have been, all the time", Charlie snaps back playfully and captures her palms into his, tugging her down and meeting her mid-thrust. His smile is cocky - until it isn't when she comes down on him, hard. His hands splay flat onto her stomach, refusing to let her go up, even an inch for a while. He's breathing heavily, eyes black with desire.

The woman watches curiously how he disappears into her again and again eventually – inch by inch; it's pretty hot and she lets out a quiet  _whoa_ , grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. His hands grip at her waist, fingers hooked behind the silken belt that under his touch grows taut. It's painful where it touches her skin suddenly – Hum wants it out, now; only this time her brain stopped working sometime before. 

She half-kneels on one knee to go  _deep_  but it's killing her momentum, the steady constricting that affects her movement, and she cries for Charlie to just cut it off-

It comes undone with a simple flick of his finger, the best or maybe precisely  _worst_  moment to do it – the hour strikes 4 a.m. then. The pain and pleasure, that strange tickling inside -  Hum doesn't know what to do amid so many sensations. Doesn't know if tears on her face are hers or his - there's too much going on-

"The wards are down", Charlie whispers urgently against her lips and Hum wants to care, really. But his hair is stricken with gold, his lashes wet and  _so long_ ,  and Hum can't bring herself to care for anything else than his tongue against hers.

"Just give me all of you", she rasps, tone urgent and strangely disembodied-

He moans into her mouth and the last conscious thought Hum has is how he spills himself so deep into her-

\- and that is when the room goes white, a blinding light exploding where the fern flower finishes imploding on itself - the curse complete. The magic goes off its center in a powerful wave, so loud, Hum loses her hearing - and her body loses all the weight that should be there.

She moves blindly to shield Charlie then but there's no flesh under her fingers - 

There's nothing there at all.


End file.
